


Set, Spike, Joust

by pancake_surprise



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Jousting, M/M, Shenanigans, Slice of Life, Training Camp, Yaku is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise
Summary: “Okay,” Kuroo says, turning back to the crowd. “Get tapped by an opponent's lance or fall off, and you’re out. Any questions?”Daichi begins to raise his hand. The question he has in mind isn’t fully formed yet but it’s along the lines of what the fuck? Suga grabs his hand midair, thwarting him before he gets the chance.“This,” Suga smiles, “will be fun.”
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	Set, Spike, Joust

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes friendship is binging 6+ hours of Haikyuu with your best friend after not seeing them for 9 months.

Daichi learned to fear the grin plastered on Kuroo’s face within the first day of meeting him. Nothing good, in Daichi’s limited experience, comes from that face. And judging from the pained expressions worn by much of Nekoma, his hypothesis holds up. Daichi is further alarmed, to say the least, when Kuroo climbs onto a chair and announces, “Gather round! Gather round. Come one, come all!” Kuroo calls. The hair on Daichi’s arm stands on end. This is going to be a _very_ bad idea. 

“All right volleyball hoes,” Kuroo starts. “You may wonder why I’ve gathered you all here today.” 

“I thought we were here for training camp?” Hinata says. 

“As I was saying,” Kuroo says. 

“Can we get this show on the road, some of us need our beauty sleep,” Oikawa yells from the back. 

“ **AS I WAS** **_SAYING,”_ ** he pauses. “I’ve called you all here for Nekoma’s annual tradition of the volleyball joust. A.K.A. the most thrilling game you will ever play, volleyball excluded.”

“Pardon my French but what the fuck is a volleyball joust?” yells someone from within the mass.

“I’m glad you asked,” Kuroo says, his grin growing even more maniacal. Daichi cringes inwardly. It can only get worse from here. 

“Kenma! Bokuto! Akaashi! Assemble!” 

With poorly contained exuberance, Bokuto rushes onto the court followed by the much more sedate Kenma and Akaashi. Kenma swiftly hoists himself onto Kuroo’s back. Akaashi and Bokuto exchange a pointed glance and with all the agility of a well-practiced play, Bokuto shifts to a wide-leg squat, bending at the knees and ankles, arms up and elbows in. Akaashi drops into a runner’s stance and bolts, launching himself onto Bokuto’s back. Bokuto doesn’t so much as waver from the impact. _What the fuc- what kind of Herculean core strength?_

“Weapons please!” Kuroo yells.

Lev, the first-year whose height Daichi still can’t quite wrap his head around, brings forward two volleyballs. Kuroo’s fingertips graze one of the balls as Lev tries to hand it over. Daichi does not like where this is going and he steps forward to say as much but-- 

A flash of red. A gust of wind. 

The balls plummet to the ground, bouncing a few times before rolling to a gentle stop at the feet of Karasuno’s team. Daichi windmills out both arms, it’s essentially instinct now, to stop Hinata, Noya, and anyone else from reaching for the balls. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows he doesn’t like it. Yaku, who Daichi swears was on the other side of the court a moment ago, is crouched between Kuroo and Lev, shirt billowing in the wind, having just smacked the volleyballs out of their hands. He stands, his back to the gathered crowd of volleyball players. 

“Absolutely not!” Yaku roars, eyes shut tight, fists clenched. “Not after what happened last time!” he sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t. Not again... I’m not strong enough.” 

“What happened last time?” says Hinata pushing himself up between Tanaka and Asahi’s shoulders. Tanaka slaps a hand over Hinata’s mouth, muffling the end of the question, but it’s too late. 

Yaku’s gaze drifts into the distance, lingering on some memory privy only to him. He sighs, haunted. 

“We don’t speak of it,” Kenma says plainly. Kuroo makes the sign of the cross as if he wasn’t the one who requested the volleyballs in the first place.

Ten seconds pass. Then twenty. Yaku doesn’t move.

The room starts to twitch. Hinata rocks back and forth on his heels; Tanaka and Noya start poking each other; Oikawa mutters something from his spot in the back of the group. Daichi can’t hear what he said but it earns Oikawa a slap upside the head from Iwaizumi. Kenma flops his head and arms around either side of Kuroo’s shoulders in order to gain enough leverage to play a GameBoy he whipped out of seemingly nowhere; Akaashi drums his fingers on Bokuto’s shoulder, looking bored. 

Even Daichi finds himself wanting to look away, to pull at the hem of his shirt or pluck invisible lint off his shorts, all in an attempt to ignore the ongoing, increasingly uncomfortable silence. 

At the two minute mark, Suga quirks an eyebrow as if to say, _get your shit together,_ and Daichi has to stifle a laugh. 

“Lev,” Yaku says finally, voice barely a whisper. “Get the noodles,” he breaks away from the ancient memory holding him captive. He shudders. “Please.” 

“Alright, back to the demonstration,” Kuroo says once Lev returns with the noodles. The _pool_ noodles. “Yaku, you’re on ref duty!” 

Yaku sighs, clearly accepting his fate. “Alright, take your positions.” 

Kuroo and Bokuto clutch Kenma and Akaashi’s legs and sprint to opposite sides of the gym. 

“Weapons up!” Yaku yells.

Akaashi and Kenma hoist their pool noodles to one side, one arm out, the other clutching their, uh, ride?

“On your mark, get set, GO!”

Daichi, in hindsight, probably should have anticipated what came next. Unfortunately, he did not, and it’s a bit of a shock when Bokuto and Kuroo take off running, _again,_ this time rushing toward each other. Kenma and Akaashi raise their pool noodle lances. Kuroo and Bokuto rush by each other, Akaashi’s pool noodle making brief contact with Kenma’s shoulder. 

They halt. 

“You’re out,” Yaku yells, pointing at Kuroo and Kenma. 

“Okay,” Kuroo says, turning back to the crowd. “Get tapped by an opponent's lance or fall off, and you’re out. Any questions?” 

Daichi begins to raise his hand. The question he has in mind isn’t fully formed yet but it’s along the lines of _what the fuck?_ Suga grabs his hand midair, thwarting him before he gets the chance. 

“This,” Suga smiles, “will be fun.” 

There’s a glint in Suga’s eye; it makes something flutter uncomfortably, moving from his gut up into his chest. He’s aware he’s crossed the line into staring too long but he can’t quite find it in himself to look away. 

“Alright, my little volleyball babes,” Kuroo shouts, pulling Daichi out of his stupor, “find a partner, saddle up, and prepare for battle.”

Daichi groans. Suga snickers. It’s going to be a long night.

There are more teams at this training camp than any they’ve attended before. If the evening, with its countless after-hours unofficial practices, wasn’t chaos before, it is now with six teams worth of rowdy high school boys clamoring onto each others’ backs and fighting over who gets to partner with who. 

Daichi cringes when Noya launches himself onto Asahi’s back and barks a “be careful” perhaps a little harsher than he intended when Hinata climbs onto Kageyama. 

With no warning, Suga leaps onto Daichi’s back, shouting “mine!” 

Daichi doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know that his face is in flames. 

Suga leans forward, resting his chest on Daichi’s back and throwing both arms around his head. Daichi is quite certain he might die before the game even begins. But then Suga rests his head on Daichi’s shoulder and whatever coherent thoughts Daichi had before go out the window. 

Suga is talking to him. Going on about game strategy, joust(?) strategy but Daichi is lost considering all the points of contact between their bodies. He’s contemplating the heat radiating off Suga’s chest when Suga laughs and snaps his fingers to get his attention.

“Earth to Daichi, are you still there?” 

From this angle, Daichi can’t see Suga’s face but he knows Suga is surely giving him a _what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you-grin_ and the image sends a whole new wave of butterflies through Daichi’s chest. 

“Uh,” Daichi says, cursing himself inwardly for how stupid he sounds. 

“You ready to kick some ass?” Suga whispers in his ear. 

Daichi swallows. “Uh,” his brain short circuits momentarily. “Yep. Let’s, uh, do that.” 

Suga laughs again. “We’d better go get a noodle before all the good ones are taken.” 

“Right.” 

Flanking the Daichi-Suga duo is the rest of Karasuno: Noya on Asahi’s back, Hinata on Kageyama, and Kinoshita on Narita. Yamaguchi, unable to convince Tsukishima to play, is on Ennoshita’s back. Daichi spies Tanaka across the gym, arguing with Yamamoto over who will ride who. Daichi weaves his hands under the backs of Suga’s thighs, gripping them tightly. He grimaces at the thought of dropping him, but he pushes it aside. He won’t drop Suga. Nope. 

What Kuroo failed to explain during his demonstration, is that the game is a lot less civilized in practice. There are no matches between duos. There are no referees, or rather Yaku is still on the sidelines, but only to ensure that those who are out don’t try to sneak their way back into the game. Kuroo screams for the game to begin and the room erupts into pure, unadulterated chaos. 

A duo from Aoba Johsai blurs by Daichi and Suga, pool noodle poised to strike someone from Shinzen. Daichi stumbles back out of their path. Nearby, Kageyama and Hinata are up against Anahori and Onaga from Fukurodani. Daichi spots Ennoshita and Yamaguchi striking down a team from Johzenji. Tanaka and Yamamato charge Shibayama and Inuoka from Nekoma. 

The air is filled with battle cries, the shrieks of losers, and the cheers of victors. 

Across the gym, Noya and Asahi are weaving through the mass; Noya has somehow acquired a second pool noodle and is taking out unsuspecting duos caught up in battles with other teams. For every strike Noya lands, Asahi apologizes at least twice. 

“That,” Suga says pointing to Noya and Asahi “Is our first target.” 

Daichi nods.

They fly across the floor, dodging duos left and right. In the end, Noya falls victim to his own tactic; while he and Asahi are distracted by taking out (and subsequently apologizing to) a team from Dateko, Daichi charges, Suga’s lance raised. Suga strikes Noya just above the heart. Noya, ever the dramatist, drops his pool noodles and flings himself off Asahi’s back. 

“I’ve been hit!” Noya cries. His knees wobble and then give out. “And, I die,” he falls to the ground. Asahi gives a pained cry. Daichi almost feels bad but then Suga is egging him on toward their next target. 

There are far fewer teams still standing than there were even moments ago. Only Kenma and Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto, Ennoshita and Yamaguchi, Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and Hinata and Kageyama. They square off, each team in their own bubble, weapons drawn. Daichi looks at Kuroo. Kuroo looks at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi stares down Ennoshita. Ennoshita eyes Bokuto. 

Bokuto charges. 

Time slows as Akaashi’s upper body jerks, unprepared for their sudden departure. He reaches for Bokuto’s shoulder, scrambling for anything to grab onto but catches nothing. 

Akaashi falls, slipping from Bokuto’s grip and landing with a hard **_thump_ ** on the floor. 

“Ack,” Akaashi cries. 

“AKAASHIIII!!” Bokuto screams. 

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto falls to his knees. “I _dropped_ you.”

Akaashi shrugs. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. Accidents happen.” 

“Nooooooo,” Bokuto wails. He curls up on the floor, holding his head between his hands. 

“Ah, Bokuto’s infamous emo moods,” Suga says grimly. 

“Don’t forgive me Akaashi, I don’t deserve it!” 

Akaashi lets out a long-suffering sigh. He signals another member of Fukurodani and together they tug Bokuto out of the line of fire. 

“Leave me,” Bokuto says. 

“No, Bokuto-san.” 

With Bokuto and Akaashi out, only four teams remain. It’s like some kind of American western movie. An eagle caws in the distance. A tumbleweed blows across the floor. 

Kuroo and Kenma make a dash for Kageyama and Hinata. Still distracted by Akaashi’s tumble, Kageyama has no time to react. Kenma’s lance strikes Hinata square in the stomach.

Kageyama loses his grip on the back of Hinata’s knees. Hinata wobbles, balance thrown off by Kenma’s attack. He slips off Kageyama’s back, crashing to the ground with a loud thud. He shrieks. Kageyama, in a failed attempt to stop Hinata’s descent, loses his balance and tumbles down after him. He lands squarely on top of Hinata, inadvertently pushing Hinata’s face into the gym floor. Neither of them move, they remain in the Hinata and Kageyama tangled heap. 

Something flares in Daichi’s chest. 

“Daichi,” Suga hisses. 

Daichi nods, understanding. He charges. Suga hoists his pool noodle, poised to strike. On the court, Daichi is known for his agility, his reaction time. It’s no different here, in this stupid game Kuroo made them play. 

Kuroo and Kenma have no time to react before Daichi and Suga are there. Suga grips the noodle in both hands, more like a sword than a lance. In one swift motion, Suga raises the noodle high over his head before bringing it back down again. The noodle connects. 

“You mess with my crows, you get me,” Suga growls.

Daichi smiles stiffly, cocking his head to one side, “and me.” 

Ever the dramatist, Kuroo crumbles to the ground, Kenma rolling off his back gracefully before being crushed by Kuroo’s descent. 

“Ah,” he says, clutching at his chest. “I am dead, Kenma. Wretched Captain, adieu! You that look pale and tremble at this chance, that are but an audience to this act. Remember me as I was in life. Kenma, I am dead. O God, Kenma, what a wounded name. Tell my story. Ah, I die, Kenma.”

“Ok,” Kenma says. 

Kuroo nudges Kenma in the side and cracks open one eye, “you’re supposed to say ‘here lies a noble heart.” 

“Oh right,” Kenma says, sounding bored. “Here lies a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet prince. Are we done now?” 

“Ugh, yes.” 

Daichi watches, transfixed at the train wreck that is his friend until a groan escapes the pile of Kageyama and Hinata, snapping Daichi and Suga out of their revenge haze.

“Oh,” he says, jumping off of Daichi’s back. 

“You’re out!” Yaku yells. 

Daichi shrugs. 

“Hinata, Kageyama! Are you alright!” Suga says crouching down next to them. 

...

Suga smacks Daichi’s calf, “Daichi, help me out here!” 

“Right,” Daichi says. He slides his forearms underneath Kageyama’s arms and heaves him out of the pile while Suga lifts Hinata from the floor. 

Hinata groans.

“Idiot,” Kageyama grumbles. “Stupid Hinata.” 

“Come on,” Daichi heaves Kageyama over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. “We need to make sure neither of you has a concussion.”

“I’m fine,” Kageyama mumbles into Daichi’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daichi says, smiling. “I’m sure.” 

“Final showdown!” Yaku announces after Suga and Daichi finish herding Kageyama and Hinata to the bench. With Kiyoko helping Suga go through the concussion checklist, Daichi turns back to the game. 

He jolts realizing only two teams remain; Iwaiuzmi and Oikawa and-

Without looking away from the court, Daichi reaches behind him and fumbles around blindly until he finds Suga’s elbow. He tugs until Suga turns, stumbling to stand next to him.. Daichi wordlessly points at the two teams setting up to face off in the final round. 

“Would you look at that,” mutters Suga. 

Yaku stands between Iwaizumi and Oikawa on one side and none other than Ennoshita and Yamaguchi on the other. The gym is silent as each team walks 20 paces away from the other. A cricket chirps in the distance. 

They turn back toward each other. Ennoshita wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Fuck it UPPP!!” Suga screams. “WaaHhhh!” He punches Daichi in the arm. “Those are our kids!!” 

Under normal circumstances, Daichi would vehemently argue that neither Ennoshita or Yamaguchi, nor any other member of their volleyball team for that matter, are Daichi and Suga’s children. Maybe the adrenaline is getting to him or maybe it’s because Suga is smiling and Daichi is useless in the face of Suga’s smiles, regardless, he throws his fists into the air and screams “Yamaguchi! Chikara!”

Yamaguchi and Ennoshita wear twin expressions of surprise that melt into something harder, determined. They nod. 

The gym erupts in a cacophony of sound. Cheers for either team interspersed between inarticulate yelling.

“Iwaizumi-san!” 

“Ennoshita!!”

“If you lose this, you’re buying the whole team ramen!!”

“Nice joust!!” 

“Fuck it up Oikawa!” 

“For Karasuno!” 

"Crush them!... Bop them!... Twist them!"

Yamaguchi punches the air with the first that isn’t holding the pool noodle. 

Yaku holds up a hand, calling for the noise to die down. “Now, I want a nice and clean joust. No fighting dirty. No cheap tricks.”

The countdown begins and Daichi’s heart races. 

**Three.**

Spurred by the anxiety, he grabs Suga’s hand. Before he can pull away, Suga laces their fingers together. 

**Two.**

The room waits, standing on an edge in anticipation.

**One.**

Ennoshita pushes off the floor, launching them into the air and hurtling toward their target. Iwaizumi does the same. 

Oikawa is all concentration. Bright green noodle in one hand, the other resting on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. If he were on an actual horse, and not the back of another sweaty high school boy, he might be described as regal; imposing; kingly even. 

Yamaguchi is toe to toe with Oikawa; somehow commanding a powerful, noble presence despite gripping a neon pink pool noodle. 

“Woah,” Hinata says, somewhere behind them. “I wouldn’t want to be facing Yamaguchi right now. He’s scary.” 

“What else did you expect,” says Tsukishima, no doubt coupled with a shit-eating grin.

Daichi grips Suga’s hand tighter and- 

...

-they clash. Yamaguchi’s pool noodle striking Oikawa firmly on the arm. 

Iwaizumi and Ennoshita come to a halt, letting Oikawa and Yamaguchi off their backs respectively. 

Oikawa’s expression is pinched and incredulous, boring a hole into the spot where Yamaguchi’s pool noodle lance struck him. With twin expressions of triumph, they jump into the air and whoop. 

Suga punches Daichi in the arm with his free hand and hollers “they did it!!” 

Maybe he’s just caught up in the excitement of the moment, a jousting tournament after hours at a volleyball training camp doesn’t really mean anything after all, and certainly, this idea was anything but a good one, but he can’t help getting swept along anyway. He rushes the court with the rest of the team, still hand in hand with Suga. 

“That was amazing!” 

“Fuck yeah!” 

“Nice serve!” 

“Yamaguchi is our king!” 

Noya jumps on Ennoshita’s back and he crumbles like a paper cup, no doubt exhausted after hauling around a grown-ass teenager on his back for twenty minutes. Tanaka leaps on top starting a dog pile that quickly grows to include the whole team, Daichi included. 

“So,” Suga says later, once the party has broken up and the teams have dispersed to their rooms for the night. “Do you still think the joust was a bad idea?” 

“Hmm...” Daichi mutters. They’re whispering, futons pushed close together in the corner of the room while the rest of the team snores softly around them. “Hard to say.” 

“Well I liked it,” Suga says grinning. “It’s not every day I get a hot guy to carry me around.”

Daichi’s face heats up and he stammers “oh, uh, that’s. um.” 

Suga giggles. “He’s cute too.” 

This does absolutely nothing to stop Daichi’s stammering. He babbles on, not even hearing the string of syllables falling from his mouth. 

“Daichi,” Suga says, reaching out a hand and resting it on Daichi’s burning cheek. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” 

Daichi doesn’t waste time after that. He shuffles closer until they’re practically nose to nose. He pauses a moment to exist in the same space but surging forward and closing the gap between them. Suga’s lips are soft because of course they are. He presses closer, resting a hand on the back of Suga’s neck. The fluttering sensation in his returns, stronger than before, and so strong he briefly worries his chest might very well rip open right then and there from the pressure.

They pull apart and Suga smiles again. 

“Wow,” Daichi mumbles. 

“Yeah,” says Suga. 

“We should probably do that more often,” says Daichi.

“Perfect, that’s just what I was thinking,” says Suga, still smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


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